Aitch
Clock The Game
Yeah
Watch who you keep in your company (Yeah)
The wolves are out for that luxury
Where I'm from, you need tough skin
It's just death-dodging and custody (Phew)
Bullets, dingers and fuckery
Yutes roll around with some cutlery (Yeah)
Trust me, I know what the ends are like
Wanna make it out? Come and fuck with me (Whew)
I been blacked out on a late night
Bored up on a date night
Know how it feels to be flat broke
And I know what victory tastes like (Yeah)
I've had top tens, I've hade ten tops
Baked whole loads, I've had cakе bites
Gotta make hits to get paid quick
Usеd to take ticks, now I take flights
I'm (Ah, woo) blessed (Yeah)
Ain't checkers, boy, this is chess (Yeah)
Put a hundred racks on a house or go put a hundred racks on your chest (Let's go, let's go)
Next (Next), invest before you can flex (Yeah)
That chain you got, it ain't bulletproof, so I hope you came with a vest
We love this game
I mean love it with your whole heart
Letras de cancionesAnd there's a thousand other guys waiting in this wings who are obsessed with this game
I love this game, I live this game
Clock the game (Yeah)
Got the code (Yeah)
They're on smoke (Huh?)
What a load (Ha)
I'm all good (I'm all good)
On my own (On my own)
It goes down (Yeah, yeah)
Who's gonna fold? (Woo, woo, woo)
Clock the game, lock and aim
Me and them not the same (Yeah)
In the Benz, not the Range
This my friend, not my babes
Mix the blem with the haze
Turn a ten to an eighth
Tell me when and I'm game
And again (And again, woo)
Trust, get money and slide (Yeah)
You do too much comin' outside (Yeah)
Got gyal tryna touch my face (Huh?)
Don't do that, honey, I'm fried (Woo)
Said he run this place, guess it ain't been runnin' in time (Haha)
They don't fuck with Aitch, but I'm live
Clock the game
Got the code
They're on smoke
What a load
I'm all good
On my own
It goes down
Who's gonna fold? (Bah, bah, bah, bah)
Clock the game (Yeah)
Got the code (Yeah)
They're on smoke (Huh?)
What a load (Ha)
I'm all good (I'm all good)
On my own (On my own)
It goes down (Yeah, yeah)
Who's gonna fold? Yeah (Woo, woo, woo)
Hopped out the car with a home-runner, lookin' like I play for the Red Sox (Yeah)
Man took a break for the whole summer, now I'm pickin' up where I left off
Holler at me for passports, I'm only tryna shoot headshots
I can't even go stack more, this cash won't fit in no crep box (Woo, woo)
Pull up, wait, shut up, skate, double papes
Run it back, stuff a plate, split the stack, cut the cake, yeah
Freezin', baby, my wrist always on avalanche (Yeah)
That's why your wifey like Manny man (Trust)
Clock the game (Game over)
From Letras Mania